Genesis
by Mayofish
Summary: And on the seventh day, God rested. Yahiko/Konan/Nagoto Pein/Konan REPOSTED


Konan always thought that God was real, always told herself that God was somewhere out there and he was frowning down on this war and this bloodshed and this…this _pain_.

She tried her best to have faith, to be faithful, _to please God._

Yahiko, though, was a skeptic, he never believed in God. Or maybe he did, he just thought that God wasn't a very good god for letting all this happen. He promised, claimed, that he, Yahiko, would make a much better God.

(And to a point, this was true.)

Nagato was in the middle.

He didn't know what was reality and what was fantasy. He was lost but he knew, to some extent, that there was a god, but maybe there wasn't, not yet. Maybe God had to be awoken. But he knew, he knew so well, that there _had_ to be one for this war to end. God's judgment would come, it had to.

It was day one when he finally collapsed out of hunger and exhaustion. His eyes would not let him cry anymore and he was so very hungry that he couldn't even hear the weak whining of his dog. Maybe it was his, maybe it wasn't, but what did he have left now days? What was a simple stray dog compared to all he had lost?

It was day one when he wished the rain would just drown him. His face and hands were muddy and he just. Wanted. To. Die.

It was day one when he first saw his angel.

"Here, eat this," her sing-song, almost boyish voice was all he heard, it rung in his ears and burned itself deep into his memory. For a brief, fleeting moment, he thought that maybe God had sent her.

"Are you sure?" he was afraid of her answer, like she had suddenly changed her mind.

"Yeah."

And that was day one.

"What are you doing?" he asked her one night before they went to sleep. Her hands were pressed together and her eyes squeezed shut tightly, desperately.

"Praying," she responded without looking up.

"God doesn't exist," he scolded her, shaking his head so his orange hair fell into his eyes.

(She later wished that those eyes would just come back. Just. Come. Back.)

"How do you know?" she asked, looking up at him. She hated that he always seemed to be right, but he couldn't be right about this matter because God was out there somewhere.

(Or maybe he was standing right in front of her?)

"If he does, then he's not doing a very good job," he paused. "I would make a better god," his thin, chapped lips pouted slightly.

She didn't agree with him, she never agreed with either of them. Boys are boys and she, she was an almost-yet-not-quite women. She had different ideals and dreams at that time.

But pain and war changes people and their ideals and their dreams.

She stumbled upon him crying after Yahiko had fallen asleep and Sensei was up late writing.

"Nagato?" she asked, sitting next to him on the wet wood.

He didn't answer just fumbled with his hands, sniffling like he had a cold. He seemed to be trying to make some hand sign, like he was just learning how to form them.

"Nagato?" she repeated.

He looked up at her, his eyes red and swollen from crying, but there were no rings, not yet. Those would come later; he was still pure, still _human._

"Teach me how to pray," he mumbled, looking down at his hands that were twisted awkwardly as he tried to recall how she pressed her hands together at night.

Her face softened, "You put your hands together like this," she said, taking his hands and pressing them together softly. "Then," she paused and glanced up at the sky, "you just…talk," he voice was soft, like she doubted her own words.

"Talk? To who?" he asked.

"To God."

That was day two.

"It's okay," she breathed out the stars and industrial smoke that was slowly, ever so slowly, killing them.

(The rain always falls and it never, ever, stops for those who need, they need it so bad, to see the sun.)

"How do you know?" he looked up at her and she could see his eyes, spinning, spinning in an endless, frantic circle and she suddenly wanted to run away. But for some reason she couldn't find her legs.

"You saved Yahiko, doesn't that make it okay?"

"But what will God think of me now?"

"God forgives everyone," she said slowly, fighting the growing panic in her heart.

"He shouldn't."

And she, for the first time, agrees.

He knows now that this is day three and there are only four more to go.

"They sky is sobbing, choking on its own breaths and it just can't seem to stop," he explained to her.

"No," she placed her hand on his and leaned her head on his shoulder. "God's crying."

He frowned, "There is no such thing as—"

She cut him off by suddenly pressing her lips timidly against his. She was not ready to hear this, she was not ready to realize, to accept, that God didn't exist even if all the signs were there, laughing in her face.

That one kiss started a fire, a frenzy, and it exploded around them in a rainfall of sin.

"Please," she managed to squeeze out. _Please don't ruin my hopes, my dreams._

Suddenly, she wanted to feel like an angel, she wanted to know what heaven felt like. She didn't know how she made the connection, but she didn't seem to care. She glanced around the tent and then slowly striped herself of her clothes and reached out to him.

His eyes widened in the growing twilight and his breath hitched, but he rolled on top of her and that was where it began.

_Sinsinsinsin._

They never once glanced at the door; they never once saw Nagato watching with his spinning eyes.

He pushed into her and she gasped in pain, but she managed to say, "Please don't ever leave me," because if he doesn't leave, then it's not sin, it's not adultery. Right?

And he responds, "Never," his lips pressing against every piece of skin they can reach.

That was as close as saying 'I love you' as they ever got, but they both understood, even Nagato understood their unspoken words.

And this, this betrayal, this realization, this blasphemy that Nagato watched and saw play out before him. This was day four and the pain just kept growing, along with the obsession and the sudden need to please.

The ropes burned her wrists and she struggled not to cry as her head pounded angrily. What a fool she was, she should have never gone alone, she hissed at herself through the tears and the rain.

Yet, somehow she managed to press her hands together behind her back and close her eyes; somehow through the rope burns and the bleeding sky and the cold blade of the kunai against her neck, she managed to _pray._

"Konan!" Yahiko.

She opened her eyes, her vision blurred by tears.

Nagato saw the way she looked at him, he saw how her eyes lit up and he could almost _feel _the hope the shot through her veins as his voice echoed around them. Jealousy devoured him, but he still wouldn't do it, he couldn't.

"Kill me."

Konan couldn't believe the words, couldn't understand. They were just children. Why would God let children have to go through this?

"DON'T DO IT!" she found her voice again and she spat the words.

Yahiko took control and ran. Konan watched with horrified eyes, unable to look away, unable to comprehend.

"YAHIKO!" her voice portrayed every bit of love and every ounce of need that ever passed between them. It was her voice, not the fact that he had killed his best friend, no; it was her _voice_ that left him in shock, that forced him to accept that she never loved him, not him, only Yahiko.

It was all instinct but in the end, he had little regret.

Day five came and went as Nagato lost control and fell into his pain and envy. Konan learned to close her eyes and never open them as the chaos ensued. That is when everything _died. _

But after all this was just the beginning, this was just the _genesis._

Konan didn't remember much during the chaos, she just remembered moving her legs and finding Yahiko's body and sobbing into his hair. She remembered the explosion of war in her ears and the screams and the blunt smell of blood.

She remembered the monster Nagato became.

She remembered screaming no, but she had little passion left for this man and his fate, but their fates were intertwined.

When it was all said and done, Nagato had nothing left but pain and envy and the _need to please. _So, looking upon Konan's shaking and sobbing form, he made a choice. Truly, it was a selfish choice in the long run, but at the time it was completely and utterly selfless.

"Bring him here."

So she did. On trembling, fear-filled legs she pulled up the lifeless body of the man (no, he was still a boy) she might have, could have, loved.

"Put these in him," carefully, Nagato pulled some of the black rods out of his back, wincing in pain.

Konan was skeptical, but with shaking hands, she sawed the rods into various sizes and pushed them through Yahiko's cold, dead flesh with the help of a kunai while fighting the urge to sob or gag.

She started with the easy places and places where it would look normal, his ears, then when Nagato told her to put more in she moved to the bridge of his nose and then to his chin and finally down his arms, legs and chest

She paused and looked up at Nagato.

"That should be enough," his voice was dead as was his eyes.

He made some hand signs that Konan couldn't recognize and uttered nearly silent words.

It was still, the air, even the rain had stopped, everything. Until a choking, gasping breath sputtered from Yahiko's body. Konan dared to look down.

"Yahiko…?"

There was a long silence as Yahiko played out what happened through his head, tried to find his limbs and get accustomed to the pain that was flaring through his body.

(He later learned that the pain never stopped.)

"It's Pein now," his emotions were gone and his eyes were no longer clear, they were spinning frantically.

And God was born on the sixth day.

There was God, and there was His sacrifice, and then there was His angel.

War changes people. Emotions were eroded and there was nothing but static air.

The result of ending the war was that Nagato could no longer move; he could no longer support himself. So Yahiko—no, Pein became his body.

At first, he was reluctant to be controlled by Nagato, but Nagato brought up the fact that the rods in his body are what kept him alive. He fed off Nagato's chakra; Nagato could cut it off at anytime. With this threat, Pein kept quiet and simply obeyed. After all, Pein got his wish: he became God.

Konan was forced, out of simple gratitude, to serve them both. She became God's Messenger, and Nagato's nurse. But it was all worth the fact that she could see Yahiko again, even if he had changed, but he still loved her and she still loved him. (Though, they could never say the words, Nagato wouldn't allow it.)

Nagato, in return, got Konan. He could feel and see everything Pein did, after all Pein did share Nagato's eyes. So when the two retired for the night and did their nightly routine that they thought was a dark secret filled with sinsinsin, Nagato _knew. _

So in a sense, they all won.

But peace can only last so long, and to achieve ultimate peace, they must go to extremes. The organization had fallen apart, their sensei was dead and Nagato and Pein wanted this war to end. Now.

Day seven was approaching.

She told him not to, and he didn't want to himself, but Nagato said yes, and Madara said yes and God and His angel had no choice.

She touched his shoulder and spoke softly,

"Be careful, Pein," she was the only one who called him that. She was the only one he wanted to call him that. Yahiko was dead, Nagato was dying but Pein, Pein was very much alive.

Nagato was pushing him; he had to accomplish his mission.

"Don't go, please," she begged, emotion seeping into her voice as she slid off her cloak.

He didn't answer just looked down and took of his cloak also.

"Pein..." she walked over to him and hugged him tightly. He smelled of rain.

"Nagato would kill me," he said as he tugged at her shirt.

She knew this.

"I'll be fine," he was an excellent liar, but she wasn't falling for it. She knew the conversation was over though, because he led her to the bed and kissed her harshly. He slipped into her like he always did and she sighed in pleasure.

And for the first time, she dared to speak,

"I love you."

He paused for a brief moment, surprised.

Then, "I love you too."

Just as the words left his lips, Nagato screamed in agony. His voice traveling above the whirl of the machines and through the paper that served as walls. The truth was there; too blunt to ignore and his eyes burned with the images that he wished were his and his alone, not Yahiko's, not Pein's. Only his, like Konan should have been.

Day seven was so close they could taste it and it built up like metallic-tasting blood in the back of their throats.

She wanted to follow him, to help him but Nagato insisted, selfishly, that she stay with him, protect him, keep him company.

She had to obey.

Pein's life depended on their obedience. Pein might have been God, but he still took orders from Nagato because Nagato held a kunai to his throat and he simply could not risk his life because in doing this, he risked Konan's too.

She was there when Nagato's eyes widened and his breathing came in quick pants. She knew what happened. Her whole body locked up and she fought the urge to drop to her knees.

"You didn't have to go that far," she whispered, almost angrily, he didn't care about Pein. Pein was only a tool to him, an object.

Day seven had arrived.

She waited patiently, if Naruto showed up, it would only confirm it. But Nagato wanted her to face the pain before Naruto came. He wanted her to suffer like she had made him suffer for years,

"He's dead," Nagato's voice was smooth and simple, stoic and uncaring. He didn't care about Pein; he barely even cared about Konan anymore. They were all part of the past, all part of what he could not have, a lost cause.

"I know," her voice cracked and her eyes glanced downward. _Don't cry, don't cry._

That's when Naruto burst through the paper tree that she had worked so hard to create and her worst nightmare was confirmed. Konan was able to survive the pain of war only because she had Yahiko, only because she had Nagato, only because she wasn't alone.

She wished she could move, but she was unable to find her legs because she was using too much of her strength to keep from crying, so she just stood there and listened, like a good angel should.

"Don't do it…" she whispered. But no one ever listened to her; they never listened to her when she said no. And then as quickly as she had everything she wanted, she lost it all and she was _alone._

The flowers weren't for Naruto. But she had no one else to give them to. They weren't for him, but he looked so much like Pein…so much like Yahiko had. She had nothing left. She saw Yahiko in Naruto's eyes, in his words and in his personality, and above all she saw _hope_, not for her, but for Yahiko's ideals, for Nagato's ideals that he had stolen from Yahiko.

She held back the tears and gave him the paper flowers, a forced smile and a simple lie about returning home.

She left Naruto and took the bodies of the only ones she ever had and threw them into the lake with her sensei. She threw off her Akatsuki cloak and unpinned the flower from hair and threw them in with the bodies, watching them float to the bottom.

"Rest in peace," she whispered as she inhaled the industrial smoke and the stars. She was no longer Konan. She was no longer human. She was no longer anything.

She turned into paper and she was no more then that, scraps of torn paper in the wind.

But that day, the rain stopped.

On the seventh day, God rested.

**Author's Note:**

My version of Yahiko, Konan and Nagato's past. My ideas are far different from other's and that's all they are _ideas_so don't yell at me and tell me that its wrong, because we really don't know that much. I also realize that my ideas are a bit farfetched, but I like this way better.


End file.
